Talk
by tinseltowns
Summary: From the first time I saw you, I knew that I'd never be able to forget you.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Degrassi, Eli Goldsworthy, Clare Edwards, etc.

**A/N:** So, this is just a quick little story I wrote while my power was out. For four days. Yeah.

This is the first thing I've written in first person since April, so if it sucks, forgive me.

That's about it. So, enjoy.

* * *

><p>Dear Clare,<p>

From the first time I saw you, I knew that I'd never be able to forget you.

Your eyes, your lips, your hair, the scent of lilac perfume that lingered in the air around you. You intoxicated me, captured me, reeled me in. I can't stop thinking about you. You cloud my thoughts, you make it difficult to think straight when you're nearby. You have me, completely. You have my heart. I can't help but think about how desperately I need to kiss you, how I need you so close to me. I know it's selfish to want so much from you, when you probably don't feel the same way. I just…I can't describe it. I just want you, and only you, more than I've ever wanted anyone else. It's strange, and it scares me, and it makes me want to slam my head against a wall that I'm so devoted to you and wrapped up in the thought of calling you mine. It's stupid, unreasonable, whatever you want to call it.

I just can't help it.

It's impossible not to think about you. I find myself going to you more and more whenever I need somewhere peaceful to go to. I've dazed off in class thinking about your smile, watched your curls bounce as you skip arm in arm with your friend down the hallway. You make me smile. You make me want to smile, want to laugh, want to do crazy things with you, want to just be with you. I want to get to know you, to see inside your world. I want to know you, I want to understand you, I want to share everything with you and create so many memories. I want to re-define myself, and change because of you. I want to do anything just to get your attention and just to get you to look at me with everything you have. I want you to know me, I do.

But at the same time, I don't.

I'm afraid of it.

I'm afraid that as soon as I let you in, give you a glimpse of what I'm like, you'll run away. I'm afraid that you'll leave me, and I don't think I could stand it if I couldn't speak to you again. You have too strong of a hold on me for me to just forget you. I don't know how long I could pretend that there was nothing I felt for you. I don't think I could last a minute without knowing I could look at you, and you'd smile at me, and everything would be alright. I don't think I could go a second without thinking about the way the light hits your face just perfectly, the way you laugh when you get nervous, the way you cross your arms over your chest and tease me mercilessly.

I can't stop thinking about your lips now. Your lips, always shining with that strawberry lip gloss I see you slip on just before you go into class; you stand at your locker mirror, trying to get it just right, rubbing your lips together. You have no idea what you do to me. The way the corners of your mouth crinkle just slightly when you smile. The way you bite your lip, the way you do always gets me. I've imagined kissing you before, imagined the feeling of your lips against mine. It gives me chills, and then I realize I'm in the middle of pre-calc, and people could be staring at me, so I have to clear my throat and stare at the board for the next hour.

I wonder if you know what you do to me.

If you do, I'm giving you hell for it.

Everything about you is perfect. I'm slowly trying to convince myself that you're not just in my mind, that I'm not just imagining you. Because sometimes, it seems like you're not real. You're just a figment of my imagination or whatever, some sort of angel sent down to tease me and mock me, show me that I can't have anything beautiful. To show me that if I do get something beautiful, I'm going to end up destroying it. I guess that's why I never really let my feelings for you show. I'm afraid I'll destroy you. I don't want to corrupt you, or mess with you. I like you too much. I can't be this close to you. You're not going to want me, anyway. Once you find out about everything, you'll run. They always do.

But I need you. I need you more than I need anything else in my life. I need you and me to work. I need all of this to work, because I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to leave. Ever. I've never wanted anyone in my life as much as I want you. I need you to be there with me. I need to know that you're there. I can't imagine it any other way. I just…I want you. And I can only hope you feel the same, or even just a miniscule percentage of what I feel. Just something, anything.

This is stupid.

How could someone love me? I'm fucked.

Totally, 100% fucked up. You'll never feel the same way.

Why did I even write this? I guess Armstrong isn't a very attentive teacher, because if he was, he would've noticed I've been writing you this letter all class. I've been thinking about you all day, like I usually do. I've been dreaming about you all day, like I usually do. I've been searching in the hallways for you all day, like I usually do. I've been looking forward to English all day, like I usually do. Because you, Clare Edwards…you have become the highlight of my days. And the weekends are shit, until I get on FaceRange and beat myself up until you come online.

Because I'm so desperately lost for you.

Well, wasn't that poetic?

I don't even remember the point of this letter. Chances are it makes no sense.

Yeah, it definitely makes no sense. After all, I'm the one who wrote it.

So, I'm going to end it here, and hope you never go searching through my locker or my backpack and find it crumpled up at the bottom. Because I'll probably forget about it, and I'll probably get so lost in thinking about you again that I'll write another one, and the newest edition will join it's counterpart wherever it goes.

Shit.

I'm rambling again.

From,

Eli.


End file.
